Dimpled Flesh and Dusky Freckles
by Ravager Zero
Summary: I was challenged to make a one-shot. About a grapefruit. That falls in love with Anna. And I had to write it from the grapefruit's perspective. Intended as just a silly piece of fluff. [Ship is GrapefruitxAnna]


**AN:** So this was part crazy idea, part shipping challenge, part writing challenge. It all started when the sisters would be sent a crate of grapefruits…  
This one's for you Laura.

* * *

This is the story of how I died. I know that sounds trite, but what do you expect, they skinned me and ate me alive. I was both tasty and nutritious. It's alright, don't worry, I didn't feel a thing. That's mostly because I couldn't, and never would. You see, I was a grapefruit, just like any other, but now, I consider myself to have been the luckiest grapefruit to ever grace God's green Earth. And if you're asking why a grapefruit knows of things like that, and cares to digress into philosophy, you're in the wrong place. So, as I was saying, this is the story of how I died—or more, however, I lived, for the final moments of my short, fruity life.

It all started, as it did for a lot of other grapefruit, in a plantation somewhere in Iberia. Midsummer, 1840, or somewhere around there. About the time the kingdom of Arendelle had a nasty accident involving winter arriving far earlier than normal. That's okay though, we all know it was an accident now, and all has been forgiven. Well, like I told you, I was a grapefruit, not much else I could do at that point. So, like the other fruits around me, I was harvested, wrested from my parent—not that I wouldn't have fallen off in a couple of days anyway, it just seemed a little violent.

I was packed into a crate with dozens of other grapefruits, three pomelos and an orange. Sometimes you get a few oddballs off hybrid plants. The pomelos were a bit sour about it all, but the orange seemed fine—excited, even. It was his first trip in a crate, but it was the same for everyone else. The orange quickly became the center of attention, being the only one of his kind with us. Suited me just fine. I'm a fruit like the rest of them, no need to gush about it.

From Iberia we sailed through the English Channel—given how that stretch of water is bordered not just by Brittania but by half a dozen countries, I don't really see how they pulled that naming trick off on the rest of the world, but I digress. Through the channel, broaching into the north sea, we turned east. We docked in the Southern Isles, the entire crate was offloaded, and we were marked as a gift for Arendelle. Apparently someone here had done something very bad, and we were being sent on to make some sort of recompense. I didn't mind, it would only be another day or two at sea, after a voyage of perhaps a week. Clippers are fast ships.

Arriving in Arendelle was pretty exciting, I have to tell you. The fjord is beautiful, and the castle is a work of art. A little frosty for my tastes—as a citrus, I can hack a little frost, but all the time? Not so much. I was placed within the castle kitchen, in the larder, along with the rest of the crate. I figured I'd be ended by one of the staff members—or the sticky hands of one of their children—but it turned out that that was not to be my fate.

A firm hand took me by my dimpled orange flesh. The hand was slender and delicate, not at all what I'd been expecting. Especially not the way it rested me upon its fingertips. The eyes that belonged to the person that owned that hand gazed at me with a strange intensity, probably judging me for every little bruise and imperfection I'd acquired in my travels. I should probably tell you about those eyes; turquoise, the colour of the tropical seas under the morning sun. When I saw those eyes I knew I was in love. Forbidden love, fatal love—for if a grapefruit is loved, it is eaten. But I was perfectly willing to let this woman eat me. Whole. Well, she'd have to peel me first, of course, but you know what I mean.

She had a name. And a face. I'll start with the face. Those eyes, maybe just a little large, just the tiniest bit too wide. Between them was a nose—I think people called a nose like that a button nose, but I'm no longer sure. Soft, thin lips; warm and pink. Gentle cheekbones and a softly curving chin. She was perfect. She had freckles like I had dimples, which was to say pretty much everywhere. They complemented her dusky skin like you wouldn't believe. She was perfect, and that's before we even touch on her hair.

Long hair. Red. Strawberry blonde, ginger, auburn—all of those wonderful words that meant hair the colour of the setting sun. She had it tied up in braids, one hanging over each shoulder and on her blouse. She had another grapefruit in her left hand, but I was beyond caring at that point. She could have both of us. But she stared at me, then at the other grapefruit. With a sigh, she put the grapefruit in her left hand back, before carefully selecting another. She stared at me, then the other one, then me again, then gave a little nod. Apparently we matched some secret criteria for being edible to this woman.

Oh, right, I told you she had name, yes? Her name was Anna, and she was the Royal Princess of the Kingdom of Arendelle, heir to the throne until her big sister Elsa managed to produce an heir of her own. She looked left and right, making sure she couldn't be seen, and then she did something I'd never expected. Anna, a princess, shoved me inside her blouse—it was cotton. Inside her bra, actually. Some freckles there too. It was lace, because princesses like lacy things, right? Anyway, the other grapefruit wound up on the other side of her chest. I had no idea what was going on, but I wasn't about to complain. I was right next to something very soft and comfortable, and I was sure I—and the other fruit across from me—would be the envy of all grapefruits for the rest of eternity.

"Anna," came a sharp voice. It was a little muffled by the fabric of the princess's bodice. "What are you doing?"

"These are from the Southern Isles," the princess shook her chest about a little, probably trying to show us off. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "They might be poisoned or something, so I thought it'd be totally safer to wear them rather than eat them, right?"

I heard something that sounded suspiciously like a hand colliding with a forehead.

"What do you think, jealous much?" the love of my short, fruity life pressed on.

"I think you need to grow—"

"Whoa, feistypants, didn't see you there."

And suddenly Anna was being hugged by someone, and I was being pressed deliciously close against her flesh. I had to appreciate this while I still could—I knew eventually I'd be eaten, or worse, tossed aside as spoiled. For now, I wasn't about to complain. I loved this woman, and I hoped she'd love me too. Even if that love would prove fatal. I'm a fruit, I know, but I still wanted it. Maybe I was a nut—but that wouldn't make any sense with my dimpled flesh and juicy segments within. Oh God, how I'd love to feel those teeth crushing the life from me, my juices spreading all over her tongue. I hoped she would savour me before I left this world forever. Like I said, total fruit.

There was laughing, and merriment, and we were all in another place. Elsa had taken time off from being Queen to spend some quality time with Anna. Kristoff was stood next to her—he was the gruff mountain man that Princess Anna really loved. He loved her back too. I couldn't compete with that. That was probably why I felt so light right now. Already dead. But suddenly I was heavy again, and light, and heavy, and I could feel the lacy fabric pressing against me struggling to hold me in place. The dusky flesh beneath was starting to bead with sweat, and as I felt my weight dropping again, I understood. We were bouncing up and down. On a trampoline. Don't ask how I know—grapefruits are unreliable narrators at the best of times. I can tell you this though. It was about two minutes before I'd be dead. I can still remember that.

I slipped against the princess's sweaty flesh, the lacy bra just barely holding me in place, around my meridian. How I longed to fall back against that dusky, freckled flesh. But it was not to be. I broke free at the top of her arc, sailing freely through the air, a mass of blonde—platinum blonde—hair racing towards me; or rather, I was falling towards it. Someone had come in to talk to Queen Elsa, I saw him quite clearly, dressed like some kind of foreign royalty—which, in fact, he was—asking about just who it was bouncing on the trampoline in front of them. I bounced sharply off the Queen's head, leaving a bruise on both of us.

"That," she said, rubbing her head softly. "Would be my sister."

A hand lifted me. Slender and delicate, but with firm strength and a chilling touch. I felt a fingernail plunge through my flesh, parting the rind. I was going to be eaten by the _Queen_. I was going to be eaten by royalty—and still bouncing on the trampoline the love of my short, fruity life might never get a chance to taste me. I was already dying, I'd been half peeled in the time it took me to process that thought, my juicy crimson flesh now horribly exposed. I felt a segment being pulled away from my core. I felt sharp, even teeth bite down against it, felt my juices flowing across the Queen's tongue. I saw her smile. I was pretty sweet for a citrus. Advantage of being a hybrid.

"Anna," she spoke quietly after swallowing. "Your… ahem, chest fruit… is delicious."

And then she held out a segment for her sister to taste. I might actually get my wish. My wonderful, terrible, glorious and fatal wish. To become one with the love of my short, fruity life. Anna bounced off the trampoline, losing the other grapefruit in the process. She landed a little hard, wobbling sideways before steadying herself again. She took the proffered segment, eyeing it suspiciously. As if I, of all things, was going to be poisoned. But then I felt her dainty teeth slicing into that segment of my flesh, and my juices spilled all over her tongue. She smiled—at her sister, I think. But I could see the look in her eyes. I was _delicious_.

And that, really, was the end of me. Mostly because Anna stole the rest of me from her sister, and proceeded to finish me off, leaning against the edge of a nearby table. I think I left a little juice dribbling from her chin. Seems I'd gotten a little ripe in my voyage to Arendelle. I was dead, but I didn't care. I got my wish, the only wish I ever made. I was eaten by the Royal Princess of Arendelle—and even better, I left a smile on her face. And a little juice dribbling down her chin—it was just so… her.

She wiped her chin, and the last trace of my short, fruity life was gone from the world. I left the world a happy fruit.


End file.
